Chapter 520: Chapter 520

On both sides of the river.

The martial artists of Ma Gwang-ik took in both groups at a glance.

“So the Northern martial world... the Great Wall has been breached after all.”

The first to speak was a man with reddish blood mist faintly clouding his eyes. He was Na Il-cheon, known as Iron Claws of the Night, a long-standing member of Ma Gwang-ik who had once come from Blood Guard Division.

He too was a blue-ranked master who had fully mastered the Light Radiance Technique through the Sword Vein of Seomye, and now, in place of the First Blade of Ma Gwang-ik, served as a vanguard and forward striker for the Second Blade.

“I make a proposal to the Lord.”

He pointed a pale finger toward the warships of the Mansang Suroro Sect, situated opposite the cavalry standing silently on the water’s surface.

“Let us turn away while those pirates are dying.”

“Let’s observe a bit longer.”

Cheongmyeong nodded with barely any pause.

The group now occupying the upper right of the stream—

Over thirty warships, their sheer presence and discipline, brought to mind a formidable navy.

Nearby, the transparent water rippled chaotically. Fierce energy waves surged back and forth atop the muddy yellow decks, though outwardly only the calm sound of flowing water hinted at their hidden ferocity.

—Ma Gwang-ik can be dealt with later!

—Load! Load the cannons! Close the distance!

The planks forming the hulls of the ships gleamed slickly, as if they had no fear of fire arrows. Formed entirely of inner energy experts, the sailors left endless concentric waves radiating from the sides of the ships.

A dark smell wafted from the line of gunports, each bearing a row of black steel muzzles.

Above them, ghost-like figures of the Yangtze River stood poised—over a hundred water arts experts of the Mansang Suroro Sect lining the ship’s rails.

It was, in every sense, an overwhelming martial force.

“What’s gotten into those pirate bastards...?”

Shin So-bin trailed off, strands of her jet-black hair flickering like smoke from the hazy energy of the Light Radiance Technique.

Only a few of the sect’s elites on deck responded to her comment.

“Shut your mouth, Bloody Radiant Queen! You’re nothing but the Empire’s lapdog, yet you dare call us pirates?!”

Even the deepest internal energy surged and shook the riverbed as the Six Harmonies Transmission was invoked.

Ma Gwang-ik had come here ready for mutual destruction.

The Lost Sword Brigade, who had fought a fierce battle near the Yangtze and gone missing—he had come to find his comrades. And every search party had faced deadly interference.

From the firebombs and wave-blades of the water arts experts aboard the enemy ships.

Their information traveled fast, their movements even faster.

Mansang Suroro Sect was a mysterious force. Though they had appeared in the vast Yangtze region seemingly out of nowhere, they had already earned the title of one of the Thirteen Heavens.

Meanwhile, the hundred or so mounted warriors on the opposite bank—until now standing silent upon the water—shifted their hooves the moment the warships closed the distance.

Their movements also occurred on the water.

Just that was enough for chunks of rotting flesh, blood, and innards draped over their bodies like tattered cloaks to slough off.

The moment the front hooves of a hundred warhorses struck the water—

A tremor echoed like a drumbeat.

The figure at the head of the cavalry raised a crescent blade, and the river surged violently in two directions like a tidal wave.

The mounted troop scattered like a whirlwind and cut straight across the water in a tight line.

Their charge blinked in and out of sight like moth wings fluttering, reappearing closer and closer until—

In an instant, the gap between the two forces disappeared.

Even before Mansang Suroro could close the distance—

Hundreds of hooves erupted in cloudy foam, each horseman swinging crescent blades and axes that carved long, achromatic trails through the air.

The explosive force of their charge rippled the air into a shimmering haze—

In a single breath, the cavalry smashed through the thirty-odd warships.

A monstrous shockwave erupted in all directions, but the cavalry pierced through even that moment of stillness.

Every ship spread across the vast formation had been trampled under hoof.

Belatedly, white foam burst upward in countless jets.

The shattered remnants of what moments ago had been ships, along with the weapons of the Suroro martial artists, scattered into debris.

Muddy yellow and blood-tinged skin, splintered steel fragments crushed underfoot, turned the surface of the water a murky gray. The sound of waves barely stirred.

Soon, even the wild flow of the river stilled like the surface of a mirror. Jianghu—the name meant rivers and lakes. Water born of corpses.

Mansang Suroro Sect—one of the Thirteen Heavens.

Reduced to a state akin to annihilation.

At that moment, Ma Gwang-ik’s martial artists fell into rare silence.

They had meticulously studied the principle behind the cavalry’s charge. The unified motion, the speed, the irresistible force—it was like two or three absolute masters had joined forces on the spot and struck as one.

“When the hooves first touched the water...”

Ma Gwang-ik’s Lord, Cheongmyeong, kept his lone eye on the horsemen as he continued.

“...How long did it take for them to reach maximum speed?”

“There was no such thing.”

The reply came immediately from Wi Ye-ryeong, also known as April Bow Ghost.

Trained in archery, faint beads of cold sweat glistened along her neck and trapezius.

“They just kept accelerating until impact. And that’s not the end.”

She spoke with certainty.

Cheongmyeong slowly nodded.

“So we’re to take it as an internal energy method that treats fine steeds as an extension of one’s arsenal. Much like our clan cultivates land energy and raises spiritual beasts.”

“The Northern martial world has descended after all. Hm... If we die here, the True Body will be in trouble.”

Cheongmyeong said this flatly.

None misunderstood his meaning. It was about their former Lord.

What happens to the ones who remain when the vanguard is extinguished.

If Ma Gwang-ik were wiped out here, the Jianghu of the fallen would end.

But for Jeong Yeon-shin of Seomye, it would mean a world full of suffering. Even with all the loss he’d endured to reach this point.

The martial artists of Ma Gwang-ik understood what it meant to be left behind. Only Shin So-bin among them was still considered young.

Most had experienced the deaths of comrades more often than Jeong Yeon-shin ever had. And in this moment, each had room for at least a quiet comment.

“If only Lord Jeong were here too.”

“Then no one would be dying. The True Body’s violet robes aren’t our babysitter, you know.”

The Blood Blade Division's Pung Ran, known as the Blood Sabre Ghost, moved her crimson lips, while Oh Wol-hyang, who had recovered her blue martial prowess despite losing an arm during the battle at Sichuan's Mingong Road, clenched and unclenched her wrinkled hand.

The other masters under Ma Gwang-ik were the same.

From amidst the mounted experts, one rider stepped forward through the water. The warhorse, its head draped in steel scales like a mane, fixed its gaze directly on Ma Gwang-ik.

Na Il-cheon’s pale five fingers slightly distorted the air.

“I wonder if he’s just as strong off the horse.”

Na Il-cheon murmured coolly.

As the space already engulfed in the white stream of Guangye Ritual trembled with the pressure of Ma Gwang-ik’s experts assuming formation—

The pair of mounted beasts approached without hesitation. With each splash, splash of hooves hitting the water's surface, the air grew heavier layer by layer.

The muddy ground along the riverbank was pressed down in folds, and Ma Gwang-ik’s Shin So-bin endured the weight on both shoulders as she fixed her eyes on the opponent.

‘...Can’t see the face.’

The air surrounding the body was distorted, as if caught in a mirage of the great desert.

At this moment, the force pressing down on Shin So-bin’s garments was immense. It was the kind of pressure reminiscent of a siege cannon you'd only see on northern battlefields.

The mounted expert halted ten paces before Ma Gwang-ik. Then, something was tossed.

Shin So-bin swiftly caught and lifted it.

“The Corpse Mountain King...”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The severed head of a middle-aged woman, eyes wide in death, as if even at the moment of dying she had circulated her immense inner force. From the roots of her thick cropped hair, internal energy still shimmered.

It was the face of the Corpse Mountain King, one of the Twin Dragon Kings of the River Channel Alliance.

“Looking for praise, are you?”

Cheongmyeong chuckled from the side, his single blue eye slightly narrowed.

“Though you did kill her well, I thought we were next.”

To Shin So-bin, it was a stalling tactic. Behind Ma Gwang-ik’s forces, one of the white-clad warriors was pricking his finger and composing a letter with blood.

The blue-robed experts of Ma Gwang-ik were processing Cheongmyeong’s whispered transmissions even as they listened to him with one ear. The message would soon be tied to the leg of a blue swallow entrusted to the new Ma Gwang-ik Lord and sent flying.

—Once the signal is given, scatter. It’s chaos from here. There’s no rule that says Guangye Ritual has to be a frontal assault. The odds are too unpredictable.

“Hey, do you even know who we are? It’s only proper to know each other’s affiliations. That way, we can pay condolences to the right faction once someone dies.”

Cheongmyeong’s voice overlapped in two layers—one as a whisper to Ma Gwang-ik, the other aloud to the horseman.

Shin So-bin, meanwhile, pushed her internal energy to the limit while adding in a casual remark.

“They might not understand our language...”

Suddenly, the lower half of the mounted man’s face came into view. His jawline was so rugged it looked as though pieces of it had been chipped off like stone.

His lips twisted at a diagonal.

It was hard to tell if that was their natural shape or a sneer. Only the voice was clear, as if grinding a stone over rough rock.

“Ip. Hwang. Fortress...?”

He asked, enunciating each word.

At that moment, Shin So-bin felt as if her thoughts were being ground through a millstone. An eerie chill settled in.

‘A supreme master...?!’

The northern martial world, rooted on entirely different ground, had come to them. Alongside it came the hue of twilight beginning to soak into the river.

Before Jeong Yeon-shin had pursued Shin Cheonhwa into her Phantom Hollow, Ak Su-rim had said that for a short time, she could guard the main fortress like a proxy leader of the Divine Sword Sect.

But Jeong Yeon-shin had thought beyond that.

The Ipwang Divine Spear was a symbol of the fortress at the frontlines, and its master, Ak Su-rim, was a warrior capable of guarding the main gates of Ipwang Fortress for an entire day alone.

Moreover, the leaders of the opposing Daebang Sect had already been eliminated.

There was no unorthodox or demonic sect figure in Hogwang Province capable of challenging the former First of the Black Ranks prior to the rise of the Blood Demon Horse.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s limbs, warmed by exchanging blows with past sect leaders of the Divine Sword Corps, were ablaze—but his heart was calm.

He had tucked away the heads of the Great Master Myeongryu and the Commander of Soyeon deep within his heart.

Thanks to that, he was able to observe both the Sect Leader’s reaction to the two’s deaths and the response of his ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) grandfather, the Sword Master of the Wudang Sect, upon hearing of Elder Go Geomjin’s end.

“Well-shaped, I’d say.”

Yong Hui-myeong had finally completed the massive stone armchair with a full backrest.

His dry, emotionless tone as he praised the seat he had built himself wasn’t unlike Jeong Yeon-shin. His behavior was naturally whimsical, yet carried an odd dignity.

In contrast, his grandfather Ma Yeon-jeok remained silent for a moment before declaring the end of his seclusion training. He said it was time to go.

“Watch two more things before you go.”

“My final step and that of the Dragon Sect bastard.”

Before Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes could even fully widen, Ma Yeon-jeok pointed to Shin Cheonhwa nearby.

“That ghost doesn’t have the energy left to perform the Empty Moon Dance. So, yes, it’s two.”

The violet-clad woman shrugged.

Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin had many things to say. Chief among them—he lacked the confidence to extract any practical technique from the previous and current Empty Moon Dance styles.

His talent allowed him to absorb the secrets of all kinds of martial arts as if they were his own. But he could not treat another’s life as if it were merely a technique.

That was only possible when the opponent had lived an unbearably shallow life.

Unlike the time he analyzed Peng Yeol-ran’s Empty Moon Dance, the "Infernal Aesthetic Nirvana" of Great Master Beomheo remained an unfathomable mystery to him.

There was still a great deal of refinement left to do.

Blindly absorbing it all wasn’t the answer.

‘More than anything...’

He felt like those who had shown him the Empty Moon Dance were about to vanish beyond the door forever. And whatever that premonition was—it felt right.

“Yeon-shin, you must see it.”

But his grandfather was no noble gentleman. When he believed something was right, he disregarded Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze completely.

“The Divine Sword Sect Leaders.”

Spoke the Ruthless Sword, Ma Yeon-jeok.

At the same time, Yong Hui-myeong stood from the stone chair behind him.

Jeong Yeon-shin witnessed two visions.

Then, with his blurred eyes, he paid his respects to the former sect leaders.

A slightly disheveled cupped-fist salute in purple sleeves. But no one seemed to pay it much mind.

“We’ve held you too long. Go now. Take care.”

“We’ll see you soon enough.”

As Ma Yeon-jeok and Yong Hui-myeong bid him farewell—

Even as his mind remained hazy, like in a dream, Jeong Yeon-shin began to think of himself as the leader of the Divine Sword Sect.

And in that moment, he stood in the twilight, grasping the Divine Sword Yeorae at his waist as if it were part of him.